Yours Too
by Brianna Aisling
Summary: The classic 'Ranma can't find Akane a [enter type] gift' story. (Although you know that he's bound to find her the perfect one--which he does.)


--Yours Too--

Ranma flipped the calendar over, glaring darkly at the date. Two weeks. Two lousy weeks and he was clueless. The only idea he had had was a cookbook and there was no doubt in his mind that that would earn him the beating of a lifetime. 

Grunting in irritation, Ranma tossed the calendar away from him and rose from his futon. He opened the closet door and began rifling through his clothes looking for something to wear. He pulled out his usual pair of pants and his favorite red shirt. He paused for a moment, staring at the fabric, remembering.

How many times had he given this particular top to Akane when she lost her own top? He remembered trading clothes with her when Ryoga was after her for a deadly hug. He knew he'd given it to her when she'd tried to help him with the _Hiryû ShôtenHa_. 'When else? When else?' he asked himself, running his fingers down the edge of fabric. Saffron. When she'd been so cold and still in his arms. Even her fingers had been like ice when she'd touched his cheek, but later, that night, when he'd snuck into her tent to make sure, she had been warm. Her breath had been warm, her hands had been warm, the soft smile she'd worn in her sleep had been warm.

Ranma sat down, dropping his pants beside him and letting his hands, still holding the shirt, rest in his lap. He stared down at it. The red was still bright despite numerous washings. That, he supposed, was part of Kasumi's magic. And, although he would never admit it and sometimes believed it to be his imagination, it seemed to have Akane's scent ingrained in it, making it his favorite.

This shirt was as much Akane's as it was his. The thought warmed him, made him feel as if he and Akane were connected by something much more...intimate than a forced, arranged engagement. Ranma blushed and pushed away the thought, rising to his feet. He didn't move though, staring instead at the shirt. Slowly he hung it back up and pulled out another shirt.

Akane smiled tearfully at her father and reached out to give him a hug.

"Thank you, Daddy. This is beautiful." In her lap was a silver-framed picture of her mother when she was seventeen, as Akane was now. Akane released her father and sat back, her eyes going back to the picture. She ran her fingers over it lightly. Ranma peeked over her shoulder.

"Hey! She looks like you," he said, surprised faintly. Akane gave him a funny look, and then shook her head.

"I don't think so. She's much prettier than I'll ever be." That made Ranma blush and he cleared his throat, moving away from her. She gave him that same funny look and then looked away. Nabiki poked Ranma.

"Don't you have a gift, Saotome?" Her tone made it clear that if he didn't he'd pay later. Ranma smirked at her and held out his package to Akane. Nabiki gave him a disgruntled look and he stuck his tongue out at her.

"Now, now, you two. Let Akane open her gift," Kasumi chided Akane said nothing, but picked at the tape. She wasn't sure she wanted to open this. With her luck, and Ranma's (in)sensitivity, she was probably opening a cookbook.

She was visibly surprised when she found herself looking at one of Ranma's old shirts. Her instinctive anger at getting a hand-me-down for her birthday was drowned out by a flood of memories. A small smile played at her lips as she ignored everyone's questions as to what she'd been given. Delicately she lifted the shirt out of the box and hugged it to her chest. It wasn't just a hand-me-down, she realized, but a part of their shared history, part of what defined their life together and with each other. And that was the true gift. He was giving her part of himself and it brought tears to her eyes.

"Thanks, Ranma," she said softly.

Ranma lay on the roof, his hands behind his head, his feet crossed at the ankles, a silly smile flashing up on his face every once in a while. He was thrilled at the success of his gift. Akane had clung to it the rest of the night, and every so often, when their parents weren't looking, he would find himself on the receiving end of the most magnificent smiles. He had been absolutely giddy by the end of the night, earning him several comments regarding his mental health, much to Akane's amusement. He hadn't minded though. It had been worth it to get her to squeeze his hand and hastily, shyly kiss his cheek before she'd disappeared into her room for the night. He would have good dreams tonight.

"Ranma?" He jumped, startled.

"Akane?" He crawled to the edge of the roof and peered down to find Akane craning her head up. She smiled when she saw him.

"Help me up," she said. He adjusted his weight so that he sat on his feet and stretched his hands down. Once she had grasped them tightly, he pulled her up, making sure she had her feet firmly set on the roof before letting go. Then he moved away from her, sitting back down where he had been laying. She sat next to him. They sat for a moment in silence and then Akane said his name.

"Yeah?"

"Why did you give me your shirt?" He blushed and fidgeted.

"Um...I guess it's just that it, um, well, you've worn it as much as I have and usually because of somethin' that was in some way my fault." She frowned at him.

"So?" His fidgeting grew worse. He didn't know why he'd given it to her. He scowled slightly and shrugged.

"I don't know. It just--it seemed to fit, ya know. It's like, whenever I look at that shirt, I remember..." He trailed off.

"Everything?" she asked. Ranma cast a sideways glance at her and nodded.

"Yeah. Everything." She nodded and they settled back into silence. He didn't notice when she leaned up against him; he absently readjusted his position to keep both of them comfortable and continued to look out into the night.

"Ranma?" He started, now aware of her and where exactly she was sitting. He stiffened, blushed, and cleared his throat.

"Yeah?" When she didn't answer, he looked down at her. He barely had time to meet her eyes before she had pressed her lips to his. He jerked away, startled, his eyes wide. He didn't give her enough time to be hurt before he leaned back down and returned her kiss. When they broke away, he let his forehead rest against hers, his eyes still closed, his breathing heavy.

"Ranma?" she whispered.

"Yeah?" It came out sounding like a croak.

"Whatever else I may say or do, you are mine. You know that right?" He swallowed and nodded. It had been hard for him to admit that at one point. He had always insisted that he was his own person, that no one could own him, and then he'd met Akane and somehow, with that damned smile of hers, the one he was seeing now behind his closed eyelids, she had gained control of him. 

"Good." She tilted her head and they were kissing again. She broke away again to whisper one more thing.

"I'm yours too."


End file.
